Making Memories
by Max Alleyne
Summary: Clary and Jace spend the night together for the first time since the end of the war.  Clary/Jace


**Author's Note: **So, this is my first _Mortal Instruments _fic, and some feedback would be nice. I'm anxious about it, so please, please, please let me know what you think!

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Clary looked exhausted; it didn't make her any less beautiful, but it did make her seem more fragile. But then, everyone was looking a little more fragile these days. It didn't matter that they just celebrated Valentine's defeat; they had also just finished taking care of their dead this morning. In the past week, the entire race of shadowhunters had been through too much. It had been that much worse for Clary and Jace.

Now that it was all over and done with, Jace—who still was unsure of what his last name truly should be—just wanted to sleep. He had spent the last few days in the infirmary, which should have left him well-rested, but it didn't. Instead, he felt bone-tired. His joints were still, his muscles sore and tense. Every time he looked in the mirror, he could see the bruises on his face. So no, he wasn't really feeling very well. He really wanted to crawl back into the bed and sleep.

However, this was the celebration, and his best chance to see Clary. He hadn't seen her since they got back and he had been whisked away to the infirmary to be fussed over. When he had tried to go find her earlier, she hadn't been home, which left him no choice but to come to the celebration that he would rather not attend. Because despite the fact that Valentine was dead, Jace didn't really feel like he had all that much to celebrate.

But then he saw Clary, standing there in that gray dress, and he was glad that he came. It didn't matter that she looked as exhausted as he felt; what mattered was that he could see her. She was still here and alive and _whole. _When he had seen her lying bloody on the sand back at Lake Muir, his heart had stopped for a second. When he had desperately been saying her name, trying to get her to open her eyes and look at him, his heart had started racing as panic set in. Would it beat itself to pieces on the hard surface of his ribcage if she didn't open her eyes? It would be more merciful that way. But then she had opened her eyes and all those thoughts were gone.

By the time all is said and done, he's glad he came to the celebration. Nearly the entire evening passed, and Clary never once pulled her hand from his. It was comforting, that constant pressure on his fingers. Her hand was small in his, but he could feel the rough calluses on her fingers from constant sketching. They weren't unlike the calluses that he had from years of holding weapons. Odd, how alike their hands were: his from years of death and violence, hers from years of art and creation.

They were vastly different, and yet in many ways the same. He had been stupid not to see her strength from the beginning, but he had caught on quickly enough. She—the girl with no training—had defeated their biggest enemy. She, with her stele and her art, had taken down Valentine. He shouldn't be surprised. He wasn't, not really.

What was surprising was the fact that she still wanted him. It had taken him completely off guard to hear her ask if he still wanted her, now that their romance wasn't forbidden. How could he not want her? Jace had reached the conclusion that he was a "one and done" kind of guy, and she was the one. How could he not want a strong, smart girl like Clary? No, she was it for him.

As the fireworks were fading, he noticed her yawning and leaning more tiredly against him. His arm slipped around her waist and it felt natural, like it belonged there. She smiled sleepily as she felt it and squeezed his hand tighter. He squeezed back lightly.

"I'm ready to go home," Clary whispered in his ear. He nodded.

"Well, I'm about to turn back into a pumpkin if I don't get some sleep," he announced to the others. Isabelle and Simon stared at him; they had never expected to see the day when Jace compared himself to a vegetable. Alec and Magnus saw the way that Clary was leaning against him and exchanged knowing glances.

"By all means, take Cinderella home," Magnus said with a grin. Jace didn't acknowledge him, but Clary gave him a warning look. It would have had more of a warning affect if she hadn't been so sleepy.

The streets were practically deserted; everyone else was still at the party. It took them longer than it normally would have to reach Amatis's house, mostly because they were leaning so much on each other. More than once, they had caught each other just in time to keep from hitting the ground. When they finally reached Amatis's house, they stopped on the front step.

"Here you are, Cinderella," Jace said quietly.

Clary nodded. "Here I am. I think this is the part where you give me a goodnight kiss."

"Happy to oblige," he whispered, pressing his lips to hers. It was like jolt of electricity tore through her, and she was instantly awake. Almost without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, trying to get more of him. She could feel his hands on her waist—strong but gentle. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless.

"Um…you could…we could…would you like to come in?" she asked shyly, staring at his chest. It seemed that she was suddenly stricken with an inability to look him in the eye.

He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if he had heard her right. She invited him inside, as in up to her bedroom. For the first time in his seventeen years, Jace was rendered speechless. All he could do was study her in the moonlight. After several moments, Clary pulled away from him and turned to go inside, taking his silence for rejection.

"Clary, wait! I didn't…I'd love to come in," he whispered when he finally regained his voice. She studied him carefully, as if she wasn't sure she believed what he was hearing.

"Really? You want to come up?"

He kissed her lightly on the lips. "I really want to come up."

She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to her room. It looked exactly the same as the last time he had seen it. Funny, he never thought that he would see this room again. When he had been here last, he had wanted one last night with Clary, and had no intention of surviving to have another. He had hated himself for wanting her, but he couldn't seem to get her out of his system. She was under his skin, in his blood, and he hated himself for it. He can't help but feel that same twinge when he walks into the room.

Clary stood there in the middle of the room, staring at him. When she invited him in, she hadn't been thinking this far in advance; all she knew was that she wasn't ready to let him go yet. Logically speaking, she knew that she had him and that they were allowed to be together now, but there was a part of her that was afraid she was going to wake up from this dream and find that he wasn't really hers after all. She looked around the room and remembered how their last meeting in this room had gone.

"So, here we are," she said quietly, not really sure what to do. "We could go to bed…"

The sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. Go to bed and do what, exactly? Jace looked at Clary and then realized something. The only memories he had of this room were the bad ones; the ones when he had spent that night in bed with her, wanting to touch her and despising himself for it. Now, he wanted good memories to replace the old ones. He pulled his jacket off and draped it over a chair, his shirt following closely behind. Clary just stood there, unsure of what to do.

"I won't touch you, not if you don't want me to. I just want to lie down with you and wake up with you…"

Clary smiles and nods before quickly disappearing into the bathroom to change into her pajamas. Already, he's letting the good memories take precedence in his mind. Clary smiling at him; the way that she shyly invited him to bed. When she comes out of the bathroom in her pajamas, he knows that's another moment he'll never forget.

"Close the curtains before you come to bed. I can't sleep with this much light in the room."

He grins, remembering the first time she said that to him. But this time, she's happy to say it. She's sitting up in the bed, waiting for him with the covers pulled back invitingly. He slid into the bed beside her, and this time, instead of settling in with the lightest touch, she snuggles closer. Her head is resting on his chest, her fingers entwined with his. He has an arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close, and he's struck by how very _right _this feels.

"Do you remember what I said the last time we were here?" Jace asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"You said a lot of things. But you know what I remember? I remember you telling me that you loved me; that you would love me until the day you died, and if there was an afterlife, you'd love me then. That's what I remember."

"That still stands. You're it for me. I don't want to love anyone else."

"That's good," Clary whispered. "I don't want you to love anyone else. I don't want to love anyone but you."

He kissed her softly on the temple, only to find that it wasn't enough. He kissed her lightly on the lips, but she deepened the kiss before he could pull away. Clary needed him to understand that she loved him, that this was it for her, too. She wanted him to know that she wanted a lifetime of moments like this; she wanted a lifetime of falling asleep in his arms and waking up in his bed. And she told him so with a kiss.

"I love you," she whispered, breaking the kiss.

He smiled back. "I love you, too."

When she fell asleep in his arms with a smile on her face, he knew that he didn't have to worry about those other memories in this place. He knew that when he thought of this place, he would remember their kisses, their embrace, the words exchanged. When he thought of this room, he had the best memory of all: knowing that he loved and was loved in return.


End file.
